


That Posh Bloke?(I don't like him)

by ginsky



Series: Through other's eyes [1]
Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, god help me my buddy is dating a rich old bloke
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-23
Updated: 2015-04-23
Packaged: 2018-03-25 08:56:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3804442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ginsky/pseuds/ginsky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If it’s up to Ronny, he would never let Eggsy date that old posh guy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	That Posh Bloke?(I don't like him)

**Author's Note:**

> I just ADORE hartwin. I want to write a series, in which the first story is about how a friend of Eggsy (who doesn’t know Harry at all) view their relationship, and the second one about how a friend of Harry (who never met Eggsy before) view their relationship. The third one would be written in a stranger’s view, who knows neither of them. 
> 
> This is the first story. Hope you enjoy it as much as I do :D

The truth is, Ronny and Eggsy had been best buddies since forever. They probably began to make fun of each other in diapers before they even learnt to crawl. They used to be an infamous couple—‘evil duo’ when mentioned by their neighbors—as they laughing and screaming and stamping trough other people’s well-kept front yards. Ronny worshiped Eggsy’s father with all the awe a 5-year-old could manage, and Eggsy thought Ronny’s mum made the meanest cinnamon cupcake ever in human history.

Those were their glory days.

Even after Eggsy joined the Marine, following his old man’s step, they never lost touch with each other.

Then shit happened. And happened some more.

Eggsy’s father died in a training accident (at least that’s what they’re told), he dropped out of school, they moved into a shitty apartment with an even shittier step-father. Eggsy’s one tough mother-fucker, took a fight like nobody’s business, but Ronny knew better.

Those nights they spent on the floor of Ronny’s bedroom, a bottle of beer silently exchanged between them, are the nights when Eggsy shed off his tough-man shell, reveal the gentle core under for the whole world to judge on.

Ronny stood side by side with Eggsy against Dean and his filthy gang, and Eggsy took up fights for Ronny as well. They drunk and fought through their everyday life, hoped for the best while expected the worst, until oneday Eggsy suddenly took off without so much as a good-bye, left a voice mail on Ronny’s phone mumbling about some job interview, then disappeared for a good three months. Then he came back in a fancy suit, a combed-back stupid-looking slick hair, saying that he got a job as _**tailor**_. What the fuck? _When had he ever sewed in his whole life_?

But it was fine. Ronny was not complaining, and he never pushed on the topic of this mysterious job, not even once, ‘cause Eggsy looked happy. That’s all he wanted for his friend. God blessed that dumb little shite, he deserved to be happy for once in his life.

That is, until the day Eggsy told him he made a boyfriend.

Ronny stared at him, dumbstruck, fingers still clutched around the neck of the bottle. **_“You what_ _?”_ ** he squeaked.

“I made a boyfriend,” Eggsy repeated, waving his hands like it’s nothing that your best friend suddenly jumped out of the closet, “his name is Harry. Harry Hart. He’s totally cool, you two should meet.”

“Since when do you fancy _blokes_??”

“I dun know. It has been a while?”

“Eggsy, my man,”Ronny gave him a firm look that voicelessly speaks _‘no shite please_ ’, “I’ve been friends with ye for twenty years. If there’s a single gay hair on your head, don’t you think I would notice?”

Eggsy blushed a little, which is not usual after he kissed that girl on the cheek back in their primary school, and raised the bottle to hide his face behind it. “Anyway, he’s cool.” He shrugged, casting his eyes down to avoid eye-contact.

Ronny dwelled on that a little bit, then frowned at his best friend. “Then how come you never fall in love with me?” he asked seriously, “If there’s any bloke you’d be gay for, that should be me. I’m gorgeous.”

Eggsy laughed in his face, which didn’t sting his pride at all. “Bruv,” he wiped away some beer from his lips, “I was there when you shite your diaper and spit your baby milk. Romance was long dead between us.”

“It doesn’t make any sense,” Ronny insisted, “I’ll have ye know that any gay would jump me and climb me like a tree. What kind of gay are ye, huh?”

“Ye love birds!” Eggsy teased, “ how could ye even know gays like ye or not?”

They changed the topic after that. Ronny didn’t give two shits about who his friend’s been seeing; he could went out with that horrible cat-fetish old woman across the street, and Ronny would still call him his man. They’re tight like that.

*********************

The first time Ronny saw this mysterious Harry bloke, it was just a glimpse.

He and Eggsy were going to meet at the local bar, and when he got there, Eggsy was standing outside the bar, saying something to a man standing by his side. They stood very close, elbows touching, and from the way Eggsy beamed, that must be the famous (or infamous, depends on how you see it)Harry Hart.

After being the receiving end of endless babbling from his friend about this very bloke for two weeks, Ronny had secretly set up a pretty detailed profile in his mind. Tall, strong, confident and ass-kicking—Ronny thought he would be more of a Jason Statham than this…Mr. Darcy.

Harry Hart looked like one of those posh blokes walked out of 19th century love stories. Well-aged into his fifties, with bespoken suit, black umbrella on one arm, hair slicked back without missing a single bit (at least now Ronny knew where did Eggsy got his stupid hairstyle), and a pair of leather shoes that’s shinny enough to reflect Ronny’s face.

Ronny disliked him immediately.

The duo talked some more, neither of them noticed Ronny was there until Eggsy looked up.

“Ronny!” he waved at him. Besides Eggsy, Harry Hart said something into his ear, about which Ronny didn’t want to know at all since whatever they were they made Eggsy blushed crimson in an instant so thank-you-very-much. Harry Hart nodded at Ronny once, then took off with graceful strides.

Eggsy walked towards Ronny, ear tips still tinted pink. “Hey, bruv.”

“Hey. So, that’s Harry Hart, huh?”

“Yep. That’s ‘im.”

“How come I never see ‘im around before?”

“Well,” Eggsy shrugged, “yer social circles don’t exactly overlap.”

“Then how did ye meet ‘im?”

“He’s…an old friend of my dad. He was the one who introduced me to the job in the first place.”

“He knows your da??”

“Yeah. They’re friends.”

“And now ye’re _seeing_ this bloke?”

Eggsy frowned at his tone. “Yeah, I am. You got a problem?”

“No, no, ‘f course ‘m not!” Ronny replied immediately, “it’s just…weird. Okay not _weird_ ,” he quickly corrected himself when the frown on his friend’s face only went deeper, “I’m just wondering, it’s unusual for you to date a bloke that’s—that’s—” he struggled, “that’s _**old**_.”

“Harry’s not old,” Eggsy grumbled, switching his weight onto another foot, “you wanna get in the bar n’ drink or not?”

“‘f course,” Ronny answered, quickly dropped the topic, “let’s get in.”

**************************

They went out with Harry Hart a few more times. Ronny didn’t exactly care for this bloke, but didn’t mind spending time with him either. The bloke was—like Eggsy stated proudly—a true gentleman. He never left anyone out of the topic, always made sure everyone’s got drink in their glasses, and he tipped well. When he talked, you could tell immediately that he was that kind of guy who knows a lot of shit. Seriously, how could a posh bloke looked like him know anything about making turkey burgers?

True, he was a little too composed for Ronny’s liking, his kindness sometimes let out a hint of condescension, but he’s so much better than those can-not-see-you-from-my-high-horse social elites. Ronny still hadn’t figured out what on earth did Eggsy see in this man, but who’s him to judge? And it could be worse. So much worse. Harry could be, say, a lawyer, or a magistrate. Blimey. If Eggsy’s dating a lawyer, Ronny would laugh his own arse out. They could sit together, holding hands, and talking about Eggsy’s colorful youth.

There was only one thing that’s constantly bothering Ronny.

“Why do ye guys wear that suit all the time?”

“It’s kinda like our uniform.”

“Yer uniform is bespoken suit?”

“…yes?”

“And ye can pay for ‘em all?”

“The job’s paying good.”

“Not that good if ye need to find yeself a sugar daddy,” Ronny grumbled.

To his complete shock, Eggsy burst out laughing hysterically. _“My wha’??”_ he clutched at the table to save himself from rolling to the ground, **_“MY WHA’?”_**

“Shh, shh, keep it down!!”Ronny shushed him frantically, “he’s right there!”

“Oh, Ronny my man,”Eggsy wiped some tears ( _real tears, hadn’t he been a little too dramatic lately?_ ) away from the corner of his eyes, sat up in his chair, “I assure ye tha’ he gav me nothing but shite. And I take no shite. Watch it.”

He waved at Harry Hart from across the bar. “‘Arry!” he yelled cheekily, “someone’s saying ye’re my sugar daddy! If I ask nicely, would ye come ‘ere n’ gimme some sugar?”

“Sure,” the older man replied smoothly without missing a beat, “you can certainly try.”

Eggsy burst out laughing again, which didn’t make no none zero sense to Ronny, ‘cause that remark was clearly more of a threat than an actual invitation.

“See?” Eggsy asked him with a raising eyebrow, like Ronny was the one who’s being dumb there, “nothing but shite.”

Ronny shook his head. “Ye’re insane.”

 

His remark amused Eggsy even more.

 

************************

Ronny stared at his friend’s face in complete shock. “What happened to ye?” he jumped up from the barstool immediately, “holy fuck, did you got hit by a car or wha’? Oh, shite, you didn’t jump out of the roof again, did ye?”

“Nah,”Eggsy waved awkwardly with his left hand, adjusting the cast on his right arm, “and I haven’t done that since I hit 15, so shut up ‘bout it already. It was my job.”

“You’re a _tailor,_ ” Ronny said, terrorized, “how could you end up like road kill, _by being a **tailor**_?”

“Occupational hazard,” Eggsy explained, “you gonna let me sit down or wha’? My legs hurt.”

Ronny quickly dragged him to a small table around the corner, deserting his tall barstool. “Here. You customer did this to you?”

“Uh, yeah.”

Ronny let out a high-pitched laugh. “What on good earth could you have done to deserve this? Made him a pink suit with SpongeBob printed on the front?”

Eggsy laughed loudly, winced when the move pulled at his stitches. “Something like that.”

Ronny shook his head. “What am I, retarded?” He mumbled grumpily, "ye're lying."

Eggsy’s smile froze on his face. “Ronny,” he began, lips turned downwards, “I didn’t—”

“Yeah, I know, I know.”Ronny cut him off, a little indignant, but for the most part worried about his friend, “I get it. ‘M not trying to push here.”He gave Eggsy one thorough look-over, “but I do hope you poked the shite outta that bastard with your little man-needle.”

Eggsy grinned at him with his typical loop-sided shit-eating grin. “That ye can count on.”

“And ye okay to wander around?”Ronny pointed at his all bandaged head, “those look really nasty.”

Eggsy dismissed him with an absent wave. “I’m gonna be just fine. Harry said given a few days, I’d be as good as new.”

The way he mentioned Harry’s name, like the guy held the ultimate code of everything in the universe, set Ronny on edge a little. Then something struck him.

“Did he do this to you?”

Eggsy stared at him, confused. “Did wha’? Who?”

“Harry Hart. _Did he do this to you_?” Ronny asked firmly, lips pressed together in anger, “did he hit you?”

Eggsy seemed to be abhorred by the idea _. “Wha’???_ No! Harry didn’t do this to me. Jezuz, why you even think like that?”

“Ye tell me,” Ronny eyed his suspiciously, “you got beat up a lo’ after you began seeing this bloke.”

“That’s—it’s not like that.”

“So, my best bruv is not in an abusive relationship?”

“Oi, do I strike ye as the type that got bullied without fighting back?” Eggsy frowned a little, then raised one eyebrow. “Wait; come to think about it, maybe _I am_ in an abusive relationship. But I assure you, the abuse is mutual. You don’t need to worry ‘bout nothing.”

“Uh-huh. Sure.”Ronny didn’t buy his shite at all, but decided to let go, “whatever ye say. But y’ know who to call when, say, some customer go rogue again?”

Eggsy laughed out loudly. “Of course,” he answered with ease, something flicked behind his eyes, “but they don’t get to mess around all the time. I’ll see to that.”

Ronny nodded. “You do that,” he said curtly, raising his glass to Eggsy in a silent toast.

**********************************

A loud bang woke Ronny up with a start. He struggled to untangle himself from his blanket, hands sweeping for the lamp switch, then squinted at the clock with bleary eyes—it was not even 3 a.m. What kind of loser knocked on people’s door at 3 a.m.??

He got out of bed with a string of nastiest curse he could think of with his fuzzy brain, and yanked the door open. “I swear, if you—”

“Heybruv,” Eggsy smiled at him through bloody lips, one hand clutched on the doorframe, the other hung by his side in a strange angle, “‘orry for z’ drop-by…”

Then he crashed onto Ronny without so much as a warning, almost threw them both down to the floor. Ronny half-lift-half-dragged him through the living room, put him down on the couch, didn’t realize he was cursing frenziedly until he heard those words with his own ears.

“FuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckFUCK,” he mumbled hysterically when carefully pulled off his friend’s jacket, noticing the angry crimson spreading visibly under his not-so-white-now dress shirt, “ _fuckfuckfuckFUCK_! Eggsy! Wake up!”

Eggsy’s eyes fluttered open. It took him some time to re-focus, but his eyes turned slowly towards Ronny. “‘ory‘bout y’couch.”He murmured.

“Forget ‘bout the fuckin’ couch!!” Ronny shrieked, “what the fuckin’ fuck is going on‘ere!”

Eggsy frowned, as if having problem remembering. “I…’ere’s n a’cident. I cud’en reach out…lost my gla’es…yr place ‘s ze nearest…”

“You lost your glasses??”

“I los’ my phone,” Eggsy tried again, more reasonable this time, then blinked a few times, suddenly sober. “They found me.” he yelled lowly, trying to get up from the couch, “I need to—”

“Lie the fuck down!!”Ronny snarled at him. His friend snapped his bleary eyes at him, dumbstruck, as if just realized he’s there. “Lie down, Unwin, or I swear m’ gonna knock ye right ou—”

He didn’t get to finish that. Eggsy collapsed back down, whole body limp against the couch. “Eggsy! Oh my fuckin’ jesuz!! Don’t go faint on me!”

He rushed back into his bedroom for his cellphone, but couldn’t find it anywhere. Then he remembered he put it in his jean’s pocket the night before, then put his jean in the washing basket, then put the washing basket in—

“Wha’ y’ doing?”Eggsy slurred on the couch, trying hard to roll back his head to look at Ronny, “y’can’ot call the police.”

“YE’RE BLOOD WASHING MY COUCH!”Ronny yelled, “I can do whatever the fuck I want.”

“No…don’…”Eggsy made a weak gesture at Ronny, then coughed, choking on his own blood.

Ronny was by his side in a split second. “Okay, _okay_ , no calling cops! What should I do then?”

“Call ‘Arry,” Eggsy blurred out, “y’ call ‘Arry.”

“Huh? Harry—Harry Hart?” Ronny asked frantically, “Okay. Okay. Harry Hart that is.”

He finally excavated his phone from under a pile of dirty laundry, thanking god inwardly for saying yes as Harry offered his phone number. He never meant to call; it was just a gesture, the kind you made when trying to say ' _i don't like you but fine you can date my best buddy'_ without being too obvious. He dialed the number, it was picked up after exactly three rings.

“Speak.” A single stone-cold word threw out of the speaker, startled Ronny a bit.

“Hello. Is this Harry Hart? ‘M Ronny, Eggsy’s friend, we met once befo—”

“I know who you are,” he was cut off abruptly, “speak.”

“Eggsy’s ‘ere, at my place. He’s not so well…wouldn’t let me call the hospital. He’s bleeding; I think he’s been shot. He wanted me to call ye, I dun know if—”

He was cut off again. “Is he conscious? Are the wounds fatal?”

“I’m—‘m not sure. He’s been drifting in n’ out of consciousness…but I think he could hold up for a while—”

“Stay there and push on his wound,” Ronny was not eve surprised when he’s cut off again in the middle of a sentence, “I’d be there in ten minutes.”

Harry Hart hang up on him. Ronny glared at the ending-call screen incredibly. “Push on _which_ wound exactly, ye asshole!” he shouted at it, “and what the fuck, you din’nt even ask for my address!”

He throw his phone at the wall, went back to his friend in a long stride. Eggsy seemed to pass out on his sofa, face curiously blank. “Hey, buddy, wake up.” He mumbled, pushed on the nastiest-looking gash across his friend’s stomach, “ye wake up now. You’re not going to die on me. Wake up. WAKE UP!” he slapped Eggsy hard on the cheek, and Eggsy almost jumped out of the couch.

“OUCH,” he squeaked, eyes frantic, “wha’tha’ for?”

“Ye’re not answering me!”

“I was restin’!” Eggsy squished, fall back onto the cushion with a suffering groan, “now I hav a swollen cheek to go wiz’ my other wounds. Joy.”

Ronny said nothing in response, but pushed on the wound harder. “This is no’wha’I had in mind when you said sleep-over,” he murmured.

Eggsy squirmed a little under his hands, blinking up at the ceiling, then closed his eyes. “Neither did I, bruv, neither did I.” he paused for a few seconds, before mumbling “’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. What friends are for, if you cannot turn to them when bleeding out, huh?” Ronny grinned, tried not to notice that his fingers were sticky and warm with his friend’s blood, “so what ye did to your customer this time? N' by the way, ye’re so going to do my laundry for this mess. And ye’re going to buy me a new couch.”

Eggsy smiled weakly. “I’ll buy y’ a whole new apar’ment.”

“Hey, could ye say tha’ again? I think ‘m gonna record this.”

“Recor’ all y’ want. Told ye ‘m rich now.”

“Don’t be an arse.”

Someone’s knocking on his door loudly; Ronny jumped up in shock. “Wait!” he yelled, “I’m comin’—”

The door opened. Ronny stared in disbelief as Harry Hart rushed into his apartment, eyes searching without sparing so much as a glance at Ronny’s direction. His eyes locked down on Eggsy, and in an instant, Ronny was pushed out of his way unceremoniously.

Harry Hart kneeled down beside the couch, one hand reached out to exam Eggsy’s wounds, the other carefully brushed off some hair stick to his forehead by sweat.

“Eggsy?” he whispered softly, voice low, like he was afraid of waking the boy while trying to wake him at the same time.

Eggsy’s eyes fluttered open, a shaking, cheeky grin ghosted over his face as he laid his eyes on the older man. “‘Arry, ”he blurred, “y’r‘ere.”

“Yes, I’m here.”Harry assured him, “and I’m going to take care of you. Can you stay awake?”

“…” Even as they spoke, Eggsy’s eyes were falling close bit by bit.

“Eggsy! Eggsy,” Harry grabbed him by the wrist, a hint of fear leaked into his voice, “wake up!”

“‘M awake, ‘m wake…” Eggsy bubbled out, eyes un-focused, “’m tired…”

“I know, but for now, I need you to stay with me,” the older man told him, “you can sleep later, I promise. Now stay with me,” he squished the Eggsy’s hand, “please.” He said quietly.

Eggsy frowned a little, eyes struggling to focus. “’Kay,” he said, voice clearer this time, “‘kay.”

“I need to move you to the car,”Harry said, more to himself than to Eggsy, “it’s going to hurt a little.”

“I—I’ll help,”Ronny suggested, “you took his right arm, and I—”

Harry Hart put one hand under Eggsy’s neck, the other under his knees, then—oh, the man’s certainly stronger than he let on. He lifted Eggsy up with ease, like he’s no heavier than a golf bag. He made a bee-line towards the door, moving fast but steady, with Ronny followed behind closely.

They made it to the first floor without any trouble, thanks to the wee hour; but there would definitely be a few screams in the morning for all those blood dripping along their path.

There was a car waiting outside—a taxi, much to Ronny’s surprise, but there’s no signs of driver anywhere. Harry carefully put Eggsy down on the passenger seat before climbing in behind the wheel. Ronny grabbed the handle and yanked the door open, jumped in the back seat right before the car started moving.

Through the rearview mirror, Harry Hart gave him a look that could kill Ronny a hundred times over if he’s not too concerned about his friend to discern life-threat like a normal being.

“Look, I’m not stupid!” He yelled, hands clenched into fists desperately-- _he can't get out of the car, not when his friend is **dying** in the front seat_ \-- “I know ye blokes are no tailors, at least not the kind tha’ I know of. I won't tell nobody no matter where ye'r going, I swear--But Eggsy ‘ere is my best buddy, and ‘m not gonna let you take ‘im away without knowing what ye would do to ‘im. So ‘m coming along. Now ye drive, and ye drive IMMEDIATELY, before I kicked ye out of this car and drive ‘im to hospital myself!”

His words sounded much like bravado and bluffing even to his own ears; he’s pretty sure that this man could throw him out of the car with his pinkie, but Harry Hart started the engine with no protest but a simple “buckle up”.

Ronny did what he said, which was good because Harry Hart drove like a crazy man. They hardly ran into any red lights, which was both lucky and bizarre.

“We’re almost there. Be prepared.” Harry suddenly said.

Ronny was confused for a moment, not knowing who the words were aimed for: him, or Eggsy? Harry began speaking again, turning his head slightly; only then did Ronny notice that there was a small light on his glasses, blinking regularly.

 _What the fuck_ , he thought to himself, _what shithole did I get myself into_.

*****************************

They were asked to wait outside while Eggsy’s in surgery. Ronny was pretty sure this was no public hospital, because the coffee they offered here tasted like heaven rather than mud, and the chair in the waiting room are actually pretty comfortable.

Ronny made two cups of coffee, and was on his way back when he ran into a tall bald man, who grabbed him immediately on the shoulder, startled a surprised squeak out of Ronny.

“Who are you?” the man demanded.

“ _Who are **YOU**_?” Ronny tried to shrug him off, because _ouch_ , man.

Harry looked up from his seat. “Let him go, Merlin,” he said with a firm tone, “he is with me.”

The bald man let go of him immediately. He didn’t seem too happy about it though, so Ronny quickly run away from him. He handed one of the cups to Harry Hart, and the older man took it with a polite “Thank you”. Ronny had a feeling that he’s not gonna drink it.

They sat down together outside the surgery room, in awkward silence.

“He’s gonna be fine,” Ronny blurred out, “he’s one tough little shit. I know tha’.”

Harry Hart didn’t say anything. The silence was back, tenfold more insufferable this time.

“He really likes ye though, ye know?” Ronny suddenly said, not sure why’s he saying that himself, “wouldn’t shut up ‘bout ye. Harry this, Harry that. I never saw him so smitten before. I could never understand why—not that there’s anything wrong with ye! I’m jus’ saying… ye’re so not his usual type, and he didn’t even like blokes before ye, so…”

Ronny felt like strangling himself. Or drowning himself in this delicious coffee. “Just…be good to ‘im,” he finished awkwardly, “don’t let ‘im down.”

Harry stirred, something flick through his perfectly-arranged stony mask. “I’ll do that.” He answered.

Ronny nodded. “There’s one more thing,” he said.

“Yes?”

 

“...How did you open my apartment’s door?”

*************************

“ _Tailor my arse_ ,” he said the moment when he stepped into the ward, finally get to see his friend, “ye lied to me. I thought we’re friends, ye little shit.”

Eggsy had the nerve to appear wounded by his words. “I couldn’t,” he argued, a hint of hurt in his eyes. “if I tell ye—”

“Oh, would ye shut up,” Ronny grumbled, “and for the record, I’m not pissed nor angry at ye, because Harry made me say so. I promised that I won’t upset ye during yer recovery, so that he won’t have to dismember me after I broke yer little shitty heart.”

Eggsy winced. “You two had fun?”

“Serious fun,” Ronny answered with a grimace, “and I think that bald man secretly had my apartment raided.”

“Merlin’s not gonna hurt you. Physically, that is.”

“Say that to my blood pressure.”

“Sorry,” Eggsy apologized again, voice low, ducking his head because he just KNEW how to triumph Ronny by guilt, “I didn’t mean to drag you into this. And I'll talk to Harry––nobody's going to take anybody's limbs.”

“No need. That's fine...HE'S fine,” Ronny said—to his own surprise—genuinely, “he’s not that bad, actually.”

Eggsy beamed at him, whole face lit up.

 

“I told ye,” he said triumphantly, “he’s cool!”

 

FIN. 

**Author's Note:**

> comment comment comment :D tell me what do you think pleeeeeaaasssss!!


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